


Words cannot express (those things I wish to say...)

by Maegfen



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, I'm not even sure what this really is..., Sequel, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-14
Updated: 2014-11-14
Packaged: 2018-02-25 09:38:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2617166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maegfen/pseuds/Maegfen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"This is the man who brought her daughter home, who risked his life on what was essentially a suicide mission for the sake of the survivors; this is the man who she’s owes her sanity to. There aren’t enough words to express how thankful she is to Marcus Kane." - Sequel to 'Return to me', set post 2x03 but takes place in the future...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Words cannot express (those things I wish to say...)

**Author's Note:**

> To make up for the lack of these two idiots in this week's episode, here's a smutty sequel to my reunion story 'Return to Me.' There's a bit of plot in here, but mainly smut. I'm not going to apologize though ;)
> 
> Dedicated to all the wonderful Kabby shippers, who survived the potential storm that 2x03 could have been and have come out stronger on the other side... I love you guys *hugs*
> 
> As always, I hope you enjoy :D

It’s late when she passes through the quiet corridor, her footsteps echoing softly off the metal walls that are so familiar but different all the same. She thinks it’s because the views from the windows are now filled with trees rather than stars; the change in scenery makes the whole place feel like somewhere new.

The room she stops in front of _is_ familiar though, and Abby pauses before she knocks hesitantly on the door. She figures he’ll still be up, he’s as much of an insomniac as she is, but there’s the quick rush of panic when she realizes she might be waking him from the first proper sleep he’s had in months.

Abby is about to turn tail and run, her back already facing his door, when he hears his questioning voice.

“Abby?”

She spins on the spot then, a shy smile spread over her face as she takes in the sight of him leaning casually against the doorframe. He’s still wearing his uniform trousers, but he’s lost the jacket at some point in the evening and has changed into a well-fitting t-shirt; it’s deep green, the slight color showing in the dimly lit corridor.

“Marcus,” Abby starts but then stops abruptly when she realizes she doesn’t really know what to say. This is the man who brought her daughter home, who risked his life on what was essentially a suicide mission for the sake of the survivors; this is the man who she’s owes her sanity to. There aren’t enough words to express how thankful she is to Marcus Kane.

“Come in,” he says softly, a broad smile on his face, and Abby returns the gesture as he reaches out a hand when she hesitates. His fingers grip hers gently and he gives her a little encouraging tug to urge her through the door. It isn’t an intimate gesture, she knows this, but she chuckles to herself that anyone still in the corridor would have just witnessed Chancellor Kane pulling Acting-Chancellor Griffin into his private quarters with something akin to desperation.

“You’ve been in here three seconds and I’ve already amused you?” He asks quietly, smiling at her as he moves towards the far wall, “must be a new record.”

Marcus has let go of her hand at some point in the last few seconds and Abby misses his touch. She’s missed _him_ over the last three months and now that he’s back she’s faced with feelings and internal conflicts that she’s both hesitant and desperate to acknowledge.

“I came to say thank you,” she finally confides, watching as he leans casually against the desk at the far end of the room. She steps closer, as if desperate to have him near; she doesn’t know why.

“I figured,” is all he says by way of reply, and Abby resists the urge to swat him on the chest. “How’s Clarke?”

“Exhausted,” Abby replies, noting his change of subject with consternation. “She’s in my quarters sleeping; I don’t expect her to be awake before noon tomorrow…”

Marcus nods and gestures towards a bottle beside him. It’s filled with water and he raises an empty glass in question.

“Sure,” Abby answers, because suddenly her throat feels dry and she can’t understand why, doesn’t want to think about the implications. All she needs to say is ‘thank you’ and leave, but, like always, there’s a _pull_ towards this man that she can’t seem to resist.

He hands her a glass and Abby watches a single drop of the lukewarm water trickle down the side of the tumbler. She focuses on that rather than the way she’d felt another tingle as his fingers had swept over hers when he passed her the glass; it’s like incident in the medical tent all those hours ago.

The two of them stand awkwardly in the middle of his room, neither looking at the other and Abby eventually feels that the whole thing is just _ridiculous_ ; they’re the leaders of the human race, not teenagers…

“So,” she starts again, lifting her gaze to his, only to find that his eyes are focused intently on her face, “I came to say thank you.”

“So you said,” he answers, his lips quirking into that boyish smile she really loves to see; it makes him seem ten years younger and free from the stress that his position entails.

“Thank you Marcus,” Abby says again, with the utmost sincerity, stepping forward to place a hand on his arm. His gaze follows her fingers as they rest on his bare forearm, and Abby swears she hears his breath catch; maybe she isn’t the only one affected by whatever _this_ is. “You brought back Clarke, and the other kids that you could. You made peace with the Grounders. What you did for our people…”

He interrupts her then, shaking his head. Abby stops and looks up at him in confusion.

“Honestly?” he says, looking at her again, “I didn’t do it for the people, I did it for you Abby…”

His confession hits her like a ton of bricks, and now she’s convinced it’s _her_ breath that catches in her chest. The man before her just seems to be full of surprises and she doesn’t know how to process this new information.

“Me?” Abby manages to say under her breath, her voice small and minute in the quiet of his room. She watches as he nods, just once, just enough to acknowledge her words.

“You,” he confirms, taking a deep breath and releasing it before he continues. “I… I owed you so much after what I did to you, after I _hurt_ you.” His eyes flash with anger, but Abby knows it’s at himself, not at her.

“You didn’t owe me anything,” Abby replies quietly, once again reaching out to touch his arm, hoping to reassure him. It’s clear he still hasn’t forgiven himself for punishing her, but then, she never expected him to; Marcus Kane has never easily forgiven himself for his actions (she knows the 320 lives that were lost still weigh heavily on his shoulders, even after all this time…)

“Still,” he says, and pauses, choosing to shrug almost non-committedly instead. After a couple of seconds he finds something to say to break the silence that’s fallen over them again. “I’m just glad I could bring Clarke back, could bring some of them home. The peace with the Grounders was an added bonus.”

He smiles then and gestures towards the still healing wound on his forehead.

“I’ll have a nice reminder of the trip as well,” he chuckles softly and Abby watches as he drains the water in his glass and places it back on the desk behind him. She pauses and does the same, although she doesn’t step completely back as she carefully sits her tumbler next to his.

Instead, she stands before him, watching as his brows furrow in confusion. Abby knows she’s said her piece, insignificant as it seems and that she should leave, right now, right this instant. But part of her doubts that this is real, as if somehow the last few hours have been a horrible illusion, a bad dream caused by the nature of the position he’d entrusted to her when he’d walked out of camp all those months ago. She needs to reassure herself that he returned to her, that Marcus is _here_ and safe, just like Clarke.

Her hand reaches up slowly to his forehead again, as it had done earlier that afternoon. This time, however, Marcus doesn’t flinch, doesn’t move as her fingertips trail across his brow. Abby counts the stitches and admires the way her daughter has patched up the man who rescued her. It’ll heal, definitely, but he’s right, the wound will scar; a constant reminder of what he’d done for everyone… no, for _her._ She realizes, belatedly, that she’s frozen in front of him; fingers resting lightly over his wound and gaze fixed on his. His eyes track hers just as intently, and Abby sucks in a shaky breath. In that moment, that precise second, _everythin_ g changes.

Marcus’ eyes never leave hers as his hand comes up to cover her own, his palm warm against the back of her hand. His fingers interlace with hers gently, as if he too is unsure if this is a cruel trick. He uses his grip to move their hands, to trace her fingers down his own face, down his cheeks and his neck, over his collarbone until finally, _finally_ , he stops their joined hands over his heart. Abby can feel the beat under the tips of her fingers, the rhythm a reassurance that Marcus is alive, and back and _here_.

“I’m _home_ , Abby,” he whispers, and she nods, still, even now, unsure of what to say. Instead, after making a decision she’ll probably regret later, Abby moves her arms around Marcus’ waist and pulls him into a tight hug, locking her hands together behind his back to keep him in place. They’ve not done this before, but the gesture isn’t awkward like she’d expected; it feels _right -_ after everything, after all they’ve been through, this feels _right_ …

Marcus’ arms wrap around her in return, and Abby breathes him in; he’s showered since his return, the familiar scent of soap mixing with his clean clothes and something that is uniquely _him_. Abby rests her head on his shoulder and she smiles as his own head nestles into the crook of her neck. It must be uncomfortable for him with their height difference, but he doesn’t seem to mind; he seems content just to hold her.

“Abby…” she hears him whisper, his voice rumbling through his chest as he speaks. She hums in response, but he says nothing else and she lets it pass, happy to ignore it in favor of maintaining her grip on him. She’s not sure how long they hold each other, but when they eventually pull back he just has a _look_ in his eyes that makes a shiver run down her spine.

It happens in slow motion, Abby realizes, as Marcus tilts his head to just _look_ at her. It’s intense, as if he wants to give her the world and the sky and everything in between all at once. A wave of _something_ rushes through her at the look in his eyes and she reaches up again to place her hand on the side of his face. Abby smiles as Marcus leans slightly into her palm, his eyes never leaving hers.

Her fingers reach slowly into the hair at the nape of his neck; slightly longer now than when he’d left, and Abby smiles at him as she gives the hair a slight tug. He gets the idea and leans down towards her, lips a hair’s breadth apart. He doesn’t close the gap though, and Abby would laugh at his stubbornness if she wasn’t so desperate to kiss him. In the end, she closes the distance between them herself, and allows her eyes to drift shut as her lips touch his.

She’s never really thought about kissing Marcus, not recently anyway, but when she had spared it a thought it hadn’t gone like this. In her mind he’d been rushed and hurried and slightly rough, but in reality? In reality he’s gentle; as if he is convinced she’ll disappear if he lets her go.

His hands come to rest on her hips, his grip light and enough to ground her, to keep her attention solely on _him_. Abby smiles underneath his lips and pulls him closer, her hands wrapping around his back and tugging on the bottom hem of his shirt. This easy affection between them is surprising but not unwelcome and Abby realizes then just _how long_ she’s wanted to do this for.

He spins them then, and Abby finds her back against the desk, the soft rattle of their discarded glasses reaching her ears. She ignores the sound, focuses on Marcus instead.  His lips are making their way down her neck now, and Abby wonders if he’s wanted this as much as she apparently has, that his absence and return has ignited _something_ between them that had long been disregarded and ignored.

Marcus’ hands stay on her hips, but her own sweep up and down his back, eventually settling on the waistband of his trousers, fingers playing idly with the edge of his shirt as he trails kisses along her neck. His thumbs shuck up the bottom of her shirt and almost lazily rub circles on her bare skin. Abby gasps into his mouth as he steps closer; he’s essentially trapped her between him and the hard desk behind her. Abby pushes against him, urging him to do something more, something else…

“Abby…” he whispers again and something inside her breaks. She steps back a little, just enough to look him in the eye and to process just how much he wants her.

“Marcus,” she whispers in return, her voice rough and hoarse. “I… I want…”

She stops, because she’s tongue-tied again, still unsure of what to say to him. It seems like she should be worried that they’re moving too fast, but she knows they aren’t; this feels like the right moment for _them_.

“I know,” he replies, as if he’s read her mind, and he suddenly moves them back towards his bed. Abby casts a fleeting glance at the desk where he’d pinned her only moments ago and she feels rather than hears Marcus’ chuckle, the sound rumbling through his chest.

“Another time maybe,” he utters, voice low and husky in her ear, the tone causing a shiver to run down her spine and goose bumps to rise across her arms, “my backs a little sore at the moment; I’m not sure I’m up to taking you on my desk right now…”

A deep flush runs through her, heating her cheeks, and Abby isn’t sure whether it’s because of his sudden switch from affectionate to downright dirty, or because of the implication that he wants _this_ to happen again. She decides it’s a little of both and pulls him down for another deep kiss, tongue tracing over his lips and the actions causes him to stop in his tracks once more.

Their progress across his quarters are slow but not awkward, the two of them taking their time to kiss and touch and _feel_. Abby almost feels overwhelmed by Marcus’ attention, but she dismisses her few fears and just embraces him. They stagger across the room, hands everywhere and yet nowhere, almost touching but not quite as fingers barely ghost over spots that will end this encounter much too soon; Abby’s determined to take her time with him, and she’s pretty sure the man that’s pushing her against the wall right now feels exactly the same, his hot breath leaving fiery trails across her skin while her nails leave half-moon imprints on his back.  

Eventually they make it to his bedroom and Abby is surprised to see they’re still mostly dressed. They’ve both lost their shoes along the way, but that’s it. Marcus soon moves to remedy that though, and Abby gasps again as he falls to his knees before her, planting a soft kiss to her stomach over the material of her shirt before reaching for the zip on her trousers. He inches it down slowly and Abby holds her breath, anticipation and pure _want_ flowing through her as Marcus, the zip now undone, eases her trousers down her legs. As the material pools at her feet he encourages her to lift her legs and step away from the now forgotten piece of clothing. Abby goes to moves away but Marcus stops her, hands resting gently on her thighs, palms warm against her now uncovered skin. His fingers dig into the muscles, just a little, and the slight pain mixes with the pleasure and anticipation, causing a shiver of desire to run down her back.

Abby isn’t sure what he plans to do, and the fact that it’s _Marcus_ on his knees before her just throws her brain into complete confusion; she doubts he’s ever got on his knees for anyone before; she isn’t sure whether to feel honored or embarrassed. Marcus plants a gentle kiss just above the waistband of her underwear, and his fingers trail up the inside of her thighs, ghosting over her center but not applying enough pressure to offer Abby any kind of satisfaction from the movement. In fact, it only serves to heighten her awareness of him.

Marcus stands then, reaching his full height and Abby can’t help but notices their height difference again. He pulls her in for another deep kiss and Abby leans into the embrace. After a few moments he moves back and looks her in the eyes.

“May I?” he asks and Abby nods, not entirely sure what she’s agreeing too. His intentions quickly become apparent, however, when Marcus leans down and sweeps her legs from under her, supporting her carefully as he lifts her, bridal style, into the air.

“No more distractions,” he mutters, placing a soft kiss on her temple and Abby shifts her head slightly to kiss him properly. It’s all rather surreal, she thinks, as Marcus moves the short distance to the bed. She never, in a million years, would have put Marcus Kane and excessively romantic and affectionate in the same sentence, but then again, this man never fails to surprise her.

Marcus lays her down on the bed and she shuffles back slightly awkwardly and watches as he lifts his t-shirt off. Abby can see faint but angry bruising over his ribs and a few fresh cuts on his chest. She looks up at him then, eyes full of concern, but he waves a hand at her in dismissal.

“They’re nothing, don’t worry,” he mutters, turning then and throwing his shirt somewhere towards the corner of the room. Abby senses there’s more to the story, something that he’s not telling her, but now really _isn’t_ the time. She lifts her own shirt over her head and throws it out of the way, the action leaving her in just her bra and underwear. She wishes she could take a picture of Marcus’ face when his gaze falls upon her. The look in his eyes is something akin to pure want; it’s a look that tells her that this man wants her, desires her, _needs_ her. It’s a heady feeling and Abby has to take a breath to attempt to process it all. She’d never dreamed that turning up earlier to thank him would end up with the two of them _here_.

She finally looks up at him again, and she notices that he’s standing somewhat awkwardly at the end of his bed. The buckle of his belt is undone, but nothing else and Abby reaches for him to pull Marcus down on top of her. She watches as he places his arms on either side of her as he lowers himself down; he’s careful not to crush her even now. Their lips meet again and Abby relishes the touch of him, of his bare skin against her own. He’s hot, almost burning she thinks, and Abby shudders at the feel of him against her. She fights back a groan but fails when Marcus’ lips leave hers and nip gently at her earlobe.

“I missed you,” he whispers in her ear, voice hoarse. “I missed you so much. Every. Single. Day.” Each word is punctuated by a kiss, Marcus’ lips trailing down her neck, teeth dragging across her collarbone. Abby closes her eyes and arches her back at every touch of his mouth on her skin. Now she feels like _she_ is burning, but right now she’d happily embrace the fire that burns within her.

“Me too,” Abby replies, her words spoken in a rush as if she’s telling him a great secret. She figures she probably is. “I didn’t realize how much I needed you until you weren’t here…”

“I should have said something,” Marcus says, lips leaving her throat to whisper against her skin. His fingers trace up her waist to play with the strap of her bra, and his breath tickles her as he speaks. “I should have told you so much before I left, but I couldn’t, not after…”

“Shh,” Abby whispers, her voice quiet as she pulls him up for another deep kiss. “It’s done, forgotten, in the past. This,” she says, pulling him tighter against her, “this is what’s important now Marcus; you and me, together.”

He nods against her neck, and seconds later Abby feels his teeth drag across her throat. It draws a moan from her, and her back arches up off the bed in response. He’s hard and heavy against her and Abby can feel his arousal through the confines of his trousers. She pushes up against him and chuckles at the moan her actions elicit from the man above her.

“Play fair,” he mutters, but then traces a finger down her stomach and lower, _lower_ , to trace over her damp underwear as a course of revenge. Abby groans again and lifts her hips towards him in a bid to get him to apply more pressure but Marcus just laughs and trails his fingertips up her body again until they rest just below her ribs.

Abby sits up on her elbows, feeling slightly awkward, and then moves to sit up completely. Marcus shifts back onto his knees and merely watches as she fumbles with the fastening of her bra. Marcus is staring down at her, the fingers of his left hand offering no assistance, just choosing to trace random patterns over her skin. Eventually she gets the offending item off and discards it over the edge of the bed. Marcus immediately moves to kiss her, lips moving across hers in a new sense of urgency.

He kisses patterns across her neck, her body, her breasts; each kiss followed by a soothing touch. Abby feels the pressure within her building, wants more, _needs_ more, but Marcus is seemingly intent on teasing her. She decides to even the playing field and reaches down as he leans above her, his kisses trailing up her neck. She cups him through his trousers and chuckles as he bucks his hips reflexively into her palm. He pauses and looks down at her, eyebrow raised in accusation.

“Really?” he mutters, teeth nipping her earlobe gently, “ _that’s_ how you’re going to play it?”

“Yeah,” she replies, squeezing him again and laughing at his shaky breath, “I think it is…”

He kisses her then, deep and passionate and Abby feels him take her hand in his and place it by her head, fingers laced with hers. He leans over her momentarily before he rocks back onto his knees again. He undoes the zip with a new sense of purpose and Abby watches as he works his way out of both his trousers and boxers and kicks them off the edge of the bed. She reaches for him then, encouraging him to cover her and Marcus obliges, leaning over her and bending down to kiss her again.

Abby arches her back, trying to get him to move closer, but Marcus merely grins and moves his hips away, refusing to give her the friction she so desperately desires.

“You’re such a tease,” she mutters into his neck and his laugh burns hot on her skin.

“Pot, meet kettle,” is all he manages to say in reply before she pulls his lips down to hers again. The toing and froing carries on for a few minutes and Abby delights in the gentle teasing, the laughter, the sheer _fun_ of it all; she hasn’t experienced this in a long time…

Then, moments later, Marcus is _right_ there. Something shifts and he pulls one final frustrated groan from her throat and it seems to be an indicator that he should act and act  _now._ Marcus hovers over her, and Abby can _feel_ him; he’s on the edge, watching, waiting, and Abby pulls him down for a kiss. He breaks the embrace after a few seconds and rests his forehead on hers, his eyes closed and his breaths long and deep. Abby thinks he’s trying to get back some semblance of control, so she wraps her legs around him and urges him forward.

“Now Marcus,” she whispers, shuddering as she feels him at her entrance, “ _please_.”

He doesn’t reply, just nods and slowly, _slowly_ inches forward, pushing into her. He takes his time, and Abby saviors every second.

They both moan at the feel of him _finally_ inside her. Marcus stops almost immediately, and she senses he’s still fighting for control, that they’ve pushed each other so close to the edge that they’re both in danger of this ending much too soon. She takes a couple of seconds to get used to the feel of him inside her and it’s _wonderful_ ; he’s hot, and heavy and _hers_. She gives him a few more seconds before she becomes desperate for him to move, so she reaches a hand into his hair, wraps her legs tighter around him and whispers in his ear.

“ _Please..._ ”

It’s enough to make him move and Abby moans as he presses further inside her. There’s a slight pause before  _finally_ , Marcus starts to thrust slowly, pulling out almost completely before pushing back into her. Every move he makes is focused and controlled and Abby holds him tightly as he moves, meeting him thrust for thrust, pushing and pulling in equal measure.

Abby senses that the two of them are walking a fine line between this well-maintained control and total abandon. She isn’t sure what she wants, isn’t sure she really cares; she just wants this to continue.

“Marcus… more… need… more,” she begs, wanting more, needing more, needing _him_.

Marcus speeds up then, his thrusts still deep but there's a sense of urgency behind his movements. Abby arches her back off the bed every time his hips meet hers and she pulls him down for another languid kiss, tongues matching the push and pull of their bodies. Marcus shifts a little then, his hips now pressing against her move firmly as he moves, applying glorious, wonderful pressure _just_ where she needs it.

She can feel her climax drawing closer, can sense the overwhelming feeling building low in her stomach. She clenches around Marcus every time he moves and he pulls back slightly to look down at her. The smile his gives her is devilish, and he snaps his hips forward with the next thrust. Abby laughs and clenches around him again; she’s determined to make him lose control before he does the same to her.

“ _Abby…_ ” he growls in her ear, breath hot against her skin as he breathes out. Abby doesn’t reply, just laughs again and pulls him down for another deep kiss.

Marcus draws a hand down her ribs, tickling her gently as he goes, until his fingers come to rest between them, just above where the two of them are joined. Abby groans as his fingertips trace around her center, teasing, tempting, but never _quite_ touching. She nips Marcus’ ear gently, an affectionate warning and it’s only then, when his thrusts are deep and slow and her breath is almost gone, that he _finally_ presses his fingers gently against her. It’s _just_ enough to push her over the edge and Marcus kisses her when she comes, swallowing her pleasure as if it feeds his soul.

He follows her over the edge a couple of thrusts later, and Abby pulls him close and holds him to her as he reaches his peak and comes down the other side. He manages to not collapse on top of her, though he rests his head on her shoulder and struggles to hold himself up on his shaking arms. Marcus eventually pulls out and reaches for her, tucking her close into her side as they both recover. Abby kisses him, long and deep and loving as they wait for their breathing to return to normal and their heart rates to slow.

When they’ve both recovered enough to move, Abby sits up and excuses herself to Marcus’ bathroom, slipping on her panties and his discarded shirt as she goes. When she comes back, she finds him in his boxers, standing at the edge of his bed, a couple of shirts in his hands. He turns to look at her, and smiles, broad and happy, as she comes to stand at his side. She rests her head on his shoulder and looks down at the shirts in his hand. Clearly he’s trying to decide which one to wear to sleep in.

“I… uh… I didn’t know whether you wanted to stay,” Marcus mutters, before planting a soft kiss on her temple. He looks embarrassed, as if he _wants_ her there but isn’t sure how to ask.

“I can,” she answers, plucking the shirts out of his hands and throwing them on a nearby chair, “if you want me to? Like I said, Clarke’s in my quarters tonight…”

Her words appear to be enough of a prompt to spur him into action, and Abby takes his bruising kiss as his invitation for her to stay the night. She links their fingers as he kisses her and tugs him towards his bed as he breaks the embrace, pushing him down gently and curling into his side, her head resting on his chest.

“What happens next? Between us?” she hears Marcus whisper in her ear, the beat of his heart an accompaniment to his questions.

“I don’t know,” she replies quietly, placing a kiss in the center of his chest, right next to a cut that’s almost healed. “But we’ll figure it out. We normally do…”

He hums softly in reply, and Abby realizes he’s on the verge of sleep. She feels her own eyes droop as exhaustion sweeps over her, and she curls up closer to him. She falls asleep to Marcus’ soft snores and dreams of pleasant things until morning.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think; comments and kudos make my day :)


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